Lies
by hakunamatatajade
Summary: Cammie has a problem, with lies. These lies get her into shall we say, some trouble. She gets sent to a therapy center and who does she meet? Read to find out:  Review please!


**Hey guys, this just a short story I thought of. This chapter is just the prologue/ beginning, and I'm thinking of writing more… What do you think?**

I'm Cammie Morgan and I have a problem.

When I tell someone I have a problem, they usually think of four things. I either have a weight problem, an alchohol problem, a drug problem, or a cutting problem. What they don't think of is a fifth problem.

The one that is most important.

I have a problem with _**lies.**_

There, I said it! I wonder if they're happy now…

Okay, guys, don't think I'm some crazy talking to the "voices".

Because for one, I'm the most skeptical person you will meet, and I think that psychics are complete and utter bull.

Who I'm actually talking about are the people from the therapy center. Let me explain.

A few years ago, when I was about 5 or 6, my so called father left my mother and moved across the country to fend for ourselves. Haven't heard from him since.

And I know it sounds like I took it light from my humerous (as the therapists called it) tone, I didn't. In fact, I went downright mad.

And then, with the fury of a woman scorned, I took this newfound craziness and turned myself into a completely different person.

And that new person was just someone who lied, someone who lied a lot.

And those lies got me into some trouble.

Which caused people to believe that I was crazy, despite the countless times I had told my side of the story in which they completely ignored me, and convinced my mother into putting me in a therapy center.

Which brings me back to the beginning of my story.

You see, in the therapy center, one of the many excercises they force you to do involves sitting in a circle with a bunch of other crazies while stating your name and what your problem is, and they must result in clapping when you finish.

It helps you get better, they said in the pamphlet.

But I, being raised by a strong, single mother, and definitely not being a crazy, refused to give in.

Instead of saying, "My name is Cammie Morgan, and I have a problem with lying", I said things like, "My name is Cammie Morgan, and I'm an Aquarius" or "My name is Cammie Morgan and I love green M&M's".

This of course, as you can imagine, pissed them off to an extreme.

Though, the first time I had done this, it amused me to see them act sympathetic and understanding.

"Oh, Cammie dear, we know you're going through some rough times, and more than any of the people in the world we know that the first step of recovering is admittance!", they had all said.

"Yeah right", I scoff everytime I reincount the episode.

Because they thought they understood me.

They were wrong.

Everytime I would continue to do this, and everytime they would pretend that they understood, that they cared.

But I wasn't a fool.

I could see it in their eyes by the second meeting, that they were lying through they're fake smiles and plastic faces.

They absolutely _**hated **_me, filthy bast-… yeah, maybe I shouldn't say that on here. They could hold it against me.

Where was I again? Oh yeah, they knew and I knew that they were putting on an act.

I would've just got tired and given in a loooong time ago, but they motivated me without knowing it.

I wanted them to tell me the truth.

I wanted them to get mad.

I wanted them to do anything besides pat my back and try to comfort me.

But for the longest time, they didn't.

I mean, even the other crazies each said something at times like "Why do you say stuff you're not supposed to?" or they would whisper to each other, "Who does she think she is? She's no better than the rest of us…".

I loved it when they said things like that to each other because it gave me hope that we weren't all pawns in this facility that they were trying to perceive as if it were perfect, as if we were the best there is. But, we were a therapy center for crying out loud! When people think of us, they thought of crazies all crying and telling they're stories in a circle, which we basically were doing every single day. But, they still tried hard to be perfect.

Hell, they tried _**hard.**_

But everyone cracks at one point, and they were no different, but "one point" for them was meeting number 32.

First it started with one of them snapping, "Ugh… CAN'T YOU JUST DO WHAT WE TELL YOU TO DO FOR ONCE, CAMERON?" with me responding by just sitting there with a smile on my face because that was all I wanted. But, they had already proved it to me. T

That they were normal, that _**everyone **_lies, that I didn't deserve to be here, that I could've been anyone of them.

Dirty freaking hypocrites, all of them.

But, for some reason, another comment about me never occurred again, no matter how hard I pushed my luck, now being desperate, saying things like, "My name is Cameron Morgan and I enjoy eating small dogs for dinner." Yeah, I actually said that one meeting.

But, they never gave in, no matter how tempting their will to tell me off got.

They just thought they could still be perfect, that they had another chance.

And everyone played along, which silently killed a part of me inside.

All the crazies, all the staff, they refused to give up what they call a "perfect" reputation, as perfect as they think a bunch of teenage crackheads getting "help" can be. I'm so sure.

They all just played along.

Except for my only friends in that blasted place, Zach Goode, Bex Baxter, Liz Sutton, and Macey McHenry.

Okay, you guys like?

I'm thinking the next few chapters will be stating Zach's, Bex, Liz, and Macey's problems and while I'm doing that, I'll put in some of the lies Cammie told from her POV.

Review to tell me if you like, if you hate it, or what you think I can do, or improve on.

I'll update if you guys like it!


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